


2 VS 2

by raptatta



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: boyfriends being boyfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-21
Updated: 2014-05-21
Packaged: 2018-01-26 00:16:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1667753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raptatta/pseuds/raptatta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The three set match between Seijou and Karasuno is imbedded permanently into the back of Kageyama’s mind; unfortunately, it’s not that bad of a reminder, but Oikawa insisted that he watch it in order to learn a few things, and saying no just wasn’t an option at the time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	2 VS 2

**Author's Note:**

> idk what this is.......please bear with me........this is for THAT FRIEND who surprised me this morning (this has actually been sitting in my folders for awhile lmfao)

After 20 minutes of quiet bickering under the assumption that his parents were still home, Oikawa interrupts by saying, “We’re alone, you know.”

The three set match between Seijou and Karasuno is imbedded permanently into the back of Kageyama’s mind; unfortunately, it’s not that bad of a reminder, but Oikawa insisted that he watch it in order to learn a few things, and saying no just wasn’t an option at the time. He was resistant to teaching him anything (which didn’t come as much of a surprise, really) but was almost too anxious to show him the recording—which, Kageyama decided, was merely because Oikawa was narcissistic and an asshole— though it wasn’t actually that horrible if there were things to learn. The only downside to this was that Oikawa’s bedroom was small, cramped into tiny little spaces, and his television took up most of it—and Kageyama was getting a little tired of sitting cross legged just so he could avoid having his knees bump into things. 

Oikawa, sprawled out next to him, had only cast just barely a glance at him until now— free to say whatever he wanted and, because it was Oikawa, wise with his choice of words.

“Who cares,” Kageyama said dryly. He reached for the remote, his thumb hovering over rewind, waiting for the right moment to press the button; one point was already lost to Hinata’s hesitation before his jump. “I didn’t know we were in middle school.” 

Oikawa snorted. “We haven’t even graduated yet,” he said.

Oikawa’s graduation was that year. Kageyama rolled his eyes. “My parents aren’t home either,” he said. “At least we have _something_ in common.”

“Have you always been this uptight?”

“Have _you?_ ”

Oikawa sighed and said, “Clearly.” 

Nishinoya dived, his wrists pressed tightly together, and the volleyball rolled aggressively off his forearms. Launched into the air, Asahi was able to take his save, but the ball was hit back into their court just as quickly as it went out. Oikawa hummed idly at the win of a new point, present or not, and Kageyama chose to look away from the television. “Was this what you really wanted me to come over for?”

“I didn’t want you to come over in general,” Oikawa said. “But I didn’t expect to have privacy. I don’t care how much I dislike you; I’m always going to find you even slightly attractive.”

Kageyama narrowed his eyes. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

”Probably,” he said. “I wanted to rub it in your face that you lost to me, no less, but I guess you don’t really care. Or do you?” Oikawa smiled at that. “I think you do, and I’m probably right, aren’t I?”

Oikawa was right, which was the part that Kageyama _didn’t_ like. But Oikawa did have a point; really, they didn’t particularly like each other, but Kageyama had passed the stage of caring a very long time ago and didn’t see why he had to start all of a sudden. However, he was obviously reluctant— and he wasn’t about to demote himself to a desperate teenager, _especially_ in front of Oikawa… but if that showed on his face, he’d be going back to Karasuno with it written all over him. 

“I don’t want to,” Kageyama said. “Your room is way too small.” Oikawa’s bed wasn’t even exactly out in the open; there was a huge space in the wall where it fit in, closed in on all three sides except the open end, and if it was a miracle that Oikawa— at his height, fit in there— then it’d take two for the both of them. “Plus it’s—“

”I don’t care,” Oikawa said. “We’ll just make out right here on the floor.”

Kageyama threw the remote at him and set his jaw. “You’re funny. I don’t think so.”

”I _do!_ ” Oikawa said excitedly, catching it. He launched it somewhere behind him where it landed very gracefully in his pile of laundry. But at least he turned the game off before he did so. “We don’t even have to watch your shitty game while we do it. Wouldn’t that be a mood killer, kissing me while your crushing defeat is played over and over again on the big screen?”

” _You’re_ a mood killer,” Kageyama said flatly.

”Do you want me to replay it?”

Kageyama and Oikawa were sitting directly next to each other, and it was in the only space where Oikawa’s room was open and slightly tidy. They were sitting within perfect distance of one another where all it’d take was for Kageyama to garner a bit of flexibility to kick him in the face, but he didn’t. It was a stingy comment, that was for sure— it damaged a bit of Kageyama’s ego at just the mere mentioning of it. But it didn’t bother him enough to sway his train of thought. He pressed his lips together tightly— an obvious sign of irritation. “Who says I wanted to kiss you in the first place?”

”Floor or bed,” Oikawa asked flatly.

“…Bed,” Kageyama decided. “If I hit my head, you’ll be securing your own death wish.”

“Picky picky,” Oikawa said. But it was a little hard to tell that the decision didn’t satisfy him. Kageyama, too, he guessed—on some level, but Kageyama’s satisfaction was evident more in the fact that he supposed, if it’d be anyone he’d be doing this with, Oikawa wasn’t so bad. He hated Oikawa, and wasn’t about to turn that opinion around just to do this— but sometimes, he was able to forget about it and pretend as though he didn’t want to punch the guy in the face every time he saw him. It took nothing for Oikawa to reach over and close the door, the length of his arm doing itself justice, and Kageyama scooted back and slid onto his bed, ducking his head underneath the riser to ensure he didn’t hit it going down.

Oikawa locked the door and returned a moment later. “You didn’t forget how to kiss, did you?”

”Um,” Kageyama said. Oikawa ducked in front of him, leaning his hands above the riser to hang himself down, and his knee pushed against the edge of his bed. “No? What makes you think that?”

”All that time devoted to playing volleyball and none towards girls,” Oikawa said, sounding pleased with himself. “At least I know your first kiss was with me.”

“Stop talking,” Kageyama said. “You’re giving me a headache.”

Hinata would bother him for days about this. Scrutinizing with the “enemy” (though Hinata respected Seijou), abandoning practice, neglecting his responsibilities… he had a final to study for, too, so that was news. But Hinata surely wasn’t standing outside the door, was he? And if he was, that’d be sort of strange... so Kageyama’s conscious was at rest, even at that moment, knowing of this minor relief. He was right, actually… though he surely knew how to kiss, he wasn’t too interested in spending time with girls when he could be doing better things. Volleyball took up most of his free time, but it didn’t exactly make him unhappy. 

Oikawa’s hand slid from the upper riser to his face for a moment, and then to his shoulder. Kageyama let himself lean back so that the both of them could crowd into the tiny, closed in space of his bed— and then Oikawa opened his mouth, inviting him, and Kageyama reclined his neck to meet the kiss. He wasn’t going to sugar coat it— they were both practically leaned over, hunched underneath the riser to avoid any sudden movements... but once they were both inside, it was easy to make the attempt at forgetting the small space and ignore it. 

The breath accumulating in Kageyama’s chest rested for a moment. He sighed it out, nice and slow, resetting the seconds they held the kiss as they readjusted and met again, but this time it wasn’t so sudden; Oikawa gave him time to recuperate before the response, his arms caging him in, their noses touching briefly before they twisted and moved more adamantly. Kageyama found himself growing bored by the time that seemed to never end as they did this, and he knew Oikawa was better than that— so, he let his hands drift between them, bunching up in the shirt underneath his jacket, clutching the fabric between his fingers. He got the idea.

Now, he guessed, they were “making out”. Not on the floor, which was good, but on Oikawa’s very small bed with only one pillow. Kageyama felt the back of his shoulder hit the wall behind him as Oikawa claimed multiple kisses with an open mouth, and then—when Kageyama felt his tongue swipe the bottom of his lip, he made a sudden noise and won it back, panting slightly against Oikawa’s face when his cheeks went warm at the way he sealed their lips together.

“Not so bad,” Oikawa said when they broke apart. “You wanna go farther?”

“Not really,” Kageyama said. “But I don’t really have a choice, do I?”

“Good answer,” Oikawa said. He shrugged his jacket off and dropped it onto the floor, moving his arms back as he sat back on the heels of his feet and placed his hand on Kageyama’s chest. “I’m going to kiss you again, okay?”

“Okay,” Kageyama said, and let him.

But this time, it didn’t linger for quite as long. Oikawa nipped at his upper lip before he tilted his head, and then his mouth was touching to the tense parts of Kageyama’s jaw, his ear, his neck. He felt Oikawa’s soft hair tickle his skin and shifted, trapping the other boy against him with his knees as he bent them, resting them against his hip; it was odd, how he stayed in one place, pressing dotting kisses along his collar and his Adams apple, his thumb rubbing into the fabric at his center—and Kageyama sighed, shifting a bit more underneath him as his own hands grew adventurous, reaching for the hem of Oikawa’s shirt to inch it up some, to tell him he wanted it off.

And Oikawa did so, leaning back again to swat Kageyama’s hands away, his arms crossing over one another to lift it up and over his head as he tossed _that_ at the floor, too, and then he smiled— telling Kageyama what he wanted with his gaze. “I’m not going to be the only one shirtless, if that’s what you think.”

”Shut up,” Kageyama said, and took off his shirt. “I was going to at some point.”

”No you weren’t,” Oikawa pointed out—(which was true) laughing quietly at his dishonesty as his hand pressed against his stomach, his muscles instinctively tightening at the touch. “You were going to be a dick and keep it on, and then make me take it off. You think I’m stupid?”

Kageyama groaned. He wondered: when would they get to go up against Seijou again, just so he could _really_ get the chance to kick his ass? “Are we going to keep arguing, or keep kissing?”

“Both,” Oikawa said. “But I’ll take the latter.”

They shifted. Kageyama laid his head down against the mattress, a bit disappointed when he discovered that it was the side Oikawa didn’t sleep on, based on the location of his pillow— but he didn’t seem to care. When Oikawa lowered his mouth to Kageyama’s neck again, he’d always move up some to tease him— to try and see if he could win himself a kiss, but judging by how frustrated that made Kageyama, and quickly at that, the physical banter didn’t last for long. Kageyama ended up reaching for his face, roughly cupping his cheeks with his hands to bring him up, and it was awkward— but they made it work, joining at the hip as Oikawa roughly exhaled and pursed his lips, breathing against his mouth and making him feel warm— _too warm_ , really, if his flushed skin wasn’t already an indicator.

He sighed softly when the hips against his rocked forward. If this kept on, keeping their pants on would become a problem. Kageyama was already sensitive as it was, and he knew that Oikawa was aware of this—which made things worse, but only slightly. He wouldn’t dare make a noise, and didn’t intend to (yet), so instead he simply endured the sensation—though light, and let it continue. Oikawa’s mouth abandoned his and moved to his chest instead, his arms once again moving beside him as they steadied his height— and they lingered, slow and languid against his skin as Kageyama’s breath quickened, his eyes looking at everything else but him. 

“I feel like this was too good of an idea,” Oikawa said. “I love making you feel like shit about getting like this.”

”Getting like what?” Kageyama panted. “ _Naked?_ ”

”No,” Oikawa said— then shook his head. “Never mind. I’ll just tell you when I get there.”

Kageyama jolted slightly, because as soon as Oikawa said that, his hand reached over and brushed right against the crotch of his pants. At this point, he obviously knew that this was going to be involved—but Oikawa was getting confusing; they disappeared a moment later, aggressively parting his legs as he dipped between them— and then, his _head_ was between them, the sensation ghosting over his navel and down the zipper of his pants as he mouthed kisses against the bump in his jeans and smiled. “Jackpot.”

Kageyama felt, then, as if could have fainted. “Get away from there, Tooru.”

Oikawa began to undo the fly of his pants. “Really? Because you seem to _like_ me down here, _Tobio_.”

He did, but— “You think I’m going to let you use this against me?” He tried to use his hands to bring Oikawa’s head back up. “Hell no, that’s not happening—“

It was no use. Oikawa was being nice, for once, and didn’t fully remove his pants—but he inched them down enough to where it was easy, getting his boxers down, fishing him out. He looked away, a soft exhale coming from him at the air that hit his exposed skin, and Oikawa really wasted no time in getting comfortable with his anatomy, leaning up to kiss his lower hip— the patch of skin right above the spot where his erection rested—as if he was proud of it.

“ _That_ ,” Oikawa said proudly. “I love making you feel like shit about _this_.”

”You’re not special just because you turn me on,” Kageyama said. “Anyone can do this without even thinking. You think I’m going to pop a boner every time I see you? As if.”

Oikawa laughed. “Yeah, but you don’t make out with _everyone_ you see, do you?”

Kageyama sat up. “Yeah, but I—“

It was short lived. He tensed at the motion of Oikawa leaning down, ignoring his words of protest, his tongue lining up a stripe against the shaft of his cock before his hand wrapped around the base, pumping him slowly. The warmth that collected in the bottom of his stomach lit him up, and Kageyama’s hands tightened into fists as he sank back down against the bed and held his breath. He hadn’t touched himself in awhile— and it was long enough to arouse this sort of reaction out of him. He almost forgot what it was to lie in his bed at night, doing this, as if he didn’t have a test— as if he didn’t have homework— as if he didn’t have a match. He relaxed the grip he had on his palm once he realized it was still near Oikawa’s head, and slid it off.

He wasn’t looking, but he felt Oikawa lightly flick his tongue against his tip— and then, slowly, take him into his mouth. His mind once again drifted towards Hinata and how upset he’d be if he knew he missed practice for this, because he never missed practice... but then it suddenly didn’t matter anymore whether or not he’d have to come up with an excuse. It was easier to simply say he wasn’t feeling well, even if he wasn’t particularly trusted with such a phrase, than to say he was with Oikawa. 

His foot bumped against the opposite wall on Oikawa’s side of the bed. He kept it there, his face going disgustingly warm at the heat that lit his nerves, and then Oikawa came back up— stroking him a bit more quickly, his lips pressing to the inside of Kageyama’s thigh. “You wanna come on my face?”

” _Excuse_ me?” Kageyama asked. “I won’t do that! Are you insane?!”

“Just a question,” Oikawa said. “I’ll let you be boring and do your own thing then.” 

He returned to his previous position and, not a second later, slid his cock back into his mouth. The return of such a feeling was one Kageyama basked in, obviously; he would be lying if he said this didn’t feel good. But he knew that later tonight, either he’d be trying his hardest to forget about this, or trying his hardest _not_ to. Both were wonderful options at a front but ones he knew would take place at the same time. He wasn’t really ready for that sort of choice.

He wiggled a bit, giving Oikawa more room to move as he inched his pants a bit more down his legs, and he bit his lip when Oikawa took him deeper— his cock pressing against the back of his tongue as he relaxed and slowly bobbed his head. Kageyama’s hands tightened again, off and on, trying to surpass the pressure he held at his mouth until instinctively, he rolled his hips against Oikawa’s face and parted his lips, breathing out a soft moan. It was light, feathery— and Oikawa hummed in delight, moving his own hands away to allow Kageyama the leisure of doing whatever he wished, the tension letting up from his face once it felt too good to feel concerned. He wasn’t all that surprised that Oikawa wasn’t scared to go this far; Aobajousai was filled with a bunch of uptight, narcissistic freaks who bit off more than they could chew. It didn’t exactly come as a shock to him that Oikawa would stoop this low.

However, it wasn’t really even stooping. Kageyama was losing himself, slowly and surely, in the steady rhythm the other boy began to build up, and then he came up again— smiling surely, swirling his thumb against the tip as he shimmied himself up and began to undo his own pants with his free hand. “You know, I would’ve let you take a picture of me.”

Kageyama gaped at him. “I don’t want a picture of you looking—“ he sighed. “—Lewd on my phone, thank you,” he said. “Go to your teammates with that kind of attitude.”

”Will do,” Oikawa said, and looked down to see what he was doing. He shook the belt on his pants loose and yanked it off, draping it over the edge of his bed as he gave himself just enough room to pull himself out; from what Kageyama could see, Oikawa was significantly bigger than him—and though he wouldn’t admit it, the thought was enough to make him squirm. “But the deal is: you have to let _me_ take a picture of _you_ , got it?”

Kageyama stared at his cock. “Yeah,” he said. “Whatever, I don’t care.”

Thankfully, Oikawa didn’t notice.

Instead, he lined their hips up together and moved his hand away, wrapping it around the both of them. At first, Kageyama thought that Oikawa was going to be an asshole and compare their sizes, but realized a little too late that it wasn’t actually what he was going to do. In reality, Oikawa was setting the both of them up for some _amazing_ friction, and Kageyama hadn’t exactly noticed this until Oikawa was leaning over him, his hips rocking forward slightly as his hand worked at a rhythm.

”You can be loud,” he said. “We’re alone, remember?”

Kageyama groaned. “I’d rather not,” he said. “You’re probably videotaping me and I don’t even know it.”

“Right. Always be prepared.”

He wasn’t really, was he? The thought, however, was wiped clean from his head once the next sensation made him buck forward— and Oikawa moved at the same time, rubbing against him. It felt nice, and Kageyama whined, discarding the only coherent thought he had left just to move _with_ him, to match the pace Oikawa had— so nicely— set up. The feeling from earlier still hadn’t gone away, and Kageyama could feel the familiar burn that pooled in his stomach— and he reached up with his hands to bury his fingers in Oikawa’s hair, running them through the brunette tresses as he bit his lip and closed his eyes, another quiet moan coming from him when Oikawa groaned, right into his ear. It wasn’t exactly new, really— Kageyama had heard many noises come from Oikawa before, both in private and in public, but no matter how badly hate clouded his senses and destroyed his only rational thought, he had to admit: Oikawa’s voice was lovely, and so were his expressions of pleasure.

But he didn’t dwell on it. Perhaps it was the length he had sat on this, waiting and waiting until he had convinced himself that time had better ways of passing without his hand down his pants. Oikawa’s thumb brushed over him for hardly even a second and Kageyama was clutching onto him, ducking his head into his neck as he came with a shout, calmly riding his orgasm out as he, without a doubt, made a mess against the older boy’s stomach. Somewhere in his clouded, judgmental thought, he considered the idea of Oikawa making fun of him for this, and Oikawa did laugh, but only slightly, his face flushed as he pulled his hand away and leaned back, his palm sticky from where he held the both of them. Kageyama lay there, breathing heavily—catching his breath and recovering from his too quick orgasm, until Oikawa’s foot kicking him in the shin snapped him out of it.

“Hey,” Oikawa said. “I’m not done yet.”

Kageyama sat up and looked at him.

“I’m still taking a picture of you,” he said, and licked his lips. “Get over here.”

Kageyama fixed himself and slid over to him. He felt Oikawa’s clean hand on his face, running up through his hair, and then—to be a bit nicer, they met briefly in a short kiss. But the adrenaline was still controlling the tougher parts of Kageyama’s sense, and although he was embarrassed and a bit tired, he wasn’t about to tell Oikawa no to this. After all, Kageyama hadn’t actually gone this far with Oikawa at all and couldn’t see why he should stop, especially after they hadn’t exactly finished— and though Kageyama wasn’t about to get down and do as easily what Oikawa did to him, his first base of action was to touch. (He found out that yes, he _had_ made a mess on him, but only a little. He felt childish.)

His fingers fit around Oikawa cozily. It was a comfortable fit, but even though the feeling of his orgasm had faded, Kageyama still felt fairly groggy. He looked to Oikawa’s face after he pulled back, his expression calm but indifferent with his knit eyebrows— and his eyes narrowed determinedly as he shook his head and thought—for a moment, if this would be enough. Surely it wouldn’t, obviously—Oikawa was looking at him as if he were daring, as if he wanted Kageyama to do something he wouldn’t, and Kageyama knew his stare better than anyone else. He considered, really… should he do the first thing that comes to his mind, or have to worry about e-mails and e-mails of him complaining about when he’d make it up to him?

Kageyama paused and decided that there wasn’t too much of his dignity left, anyway, and kicked his pants off.

“Ooh,” Oikawa said, smiling. “Doing something new? Getting me off easier?” 

“Shut _up_ ,” Kageyama said, and turned back around. He pushed Oikawa back with less grace than he hoped, irritated by his own actions, and climbed on top of him. He felt embarrassed like this, straddling Oikawa’s thighs as he tried to lean back on his own weight, and he beckoned Oikawa to follow him again as they went straight back to square one. However, this time Kageyama made it apparent just what he wanted to do—and shamefully, as if he wanted to show the embarrassment, pressed his thighs together.

”Bet you got this from a magazine,” Oikawa said, amused—and, because Kageyama had gotten himself worked up, hardly posed his next movement with difficult. Kageyama shuddered at how snugly Oikawa’s cock fit between his thighs, slick with sweat, and he sighed at the friction and draped his arm over his forehead. “You read those? Dirty magazines?”

”Shut up,” Kageyama said more ferociously this time, and shifted. “God— please, shut your mouth… for once…” 

Oikawa grabbed his legs and held them tightly. “Fine,” he said. “Just give me a minute.” He barely rocked his hips forward to fish through his pants and retrieve his phone, and Kageyama stared blankly at him as he angled the camera and snapped the photo. 

“Thanks,” he said. “Now just _really_ give me a minute.”

It didn’t really take that long. Kageyama was almost scared that the heat tugging at his chest would put them back at the very beginning again, but he was elongated just _watching_ Oikawa do this—satisfied with the slow thrust of skin on skin, not horribly intimate but just enough. 

“ _Aah_ ,” Oikawa moaned, biting his lip. “ _Yes_ …”

Kageyama’s eyes went hazy with exhaustion as he slowly rubbed his thighs together, watching him past his arm, and Oikawa’s head hung loosely— a soft noise coming through his clenched teeth as he snapped his hips forward against the friction surrounding him. It made a sudden noise— one that brought Kageyama out of his senses for a minute, and then Oikawa leaned over him and came—shaky moans and gasps coming from him, light ones that didn’t sound at all like him, his fingers digging into Kageyama’s skin as brought his head back and blew the hair out of his eyes.

They didn’t move there for a few minutes. At some point, Oikawa gave up and simply sat there—leaning between his legs, and Kageyama had to reach over by himself to grab his clothes and begin to put them back on. It was strange, how easily Oikawa recovered— his hands ridding themselves of the aftershock, the numbing twitches and overblown sensations. Even when Kageyama had retrieved all his clothing, he was still rather disheveled and out of shape— and as they sat on the edge of Oikawa’s bed, Kageyama wasn’t quite sure how to break the silence.

Oikawa was flipping through the photos in his phone. “You wanna see?”

”No,” Kageyama said, humiliated. “I don’t want to.”

“Want me to show Hinata?” Oikawa said, hovering over his contacts. “Huh?” 

Kageyama stared at him impassively. “You want me to launch your phone at the floor?”

”Fuck off,” Oikawa said. “I was only kidding.”

“I don’t care what the hell you do with that photo,” Kageyama said tersely. “But if you dare show anyone, I will kill you. Seriously.”

Oikawa looked away from the intimidating stare Kageyama was giving him and rose. “I won’t show anyone,” he said. “But I’ll e-mail it to you.”

“Do _not_ ,” Kageyama said, but had a feeling that Oikawa would do it anyway.

\--

At half past midnight, Kageyama got into bed and checked all of his messages. Oikawa did in fact send him the photo and he deleted it right away. He didn’t even spare a moment to look at it, and set his phone to automatically delete any, if not all of Oikawa’s future texts— but then the ping on his contact list lit up, indicating that someone had texted him; if it were Oikawa, his phone wouldn’t have notified him… so was it someone else? Lying his head down on his pillow, Kageyama swiped left to his recent text messages.

_hey kage!!!_

It was Hinata.

 _Go to sleep_ , Kageyama sent.

_you gotta see this!! :3c oikawa sent me this earlier today!!_

Hinata sent a photo attachment.


End file.
